


Slaying Dragons to "Moon River"

by rideswraptors



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur serenades Merlin, Coming Out, It's dorky as hell, M/M, Rock Star AU, Smuff, rocker!Arthur, smutty smutty fluff, techie!Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4336214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rideswraptors/pseuds/rideswraptors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Arthur is a prat and Merlin tries to forgive him for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arthur Serenades

**Author's Note:**

> So this was my first fic ever. Posted it on LiveJournal. Got self-conscious and took it down. I can't bear to edit it now, so I'll post it for your lovely selves in its full glory. Considering how the show ended, maybe it's enough fluff to soothe your fan-weary souls. I have no clue. Reviews are love, comment in the thingy!

No matter how much time might pass, Arthur would always hate the sound and the flash of cameras. Always. Had they flashed as repeatedly and incessantly as they had in the past six years for his entire life, maybe he would have been used to them by now. Probably not. The sound just aggravated him, felt he lost a bit of his soul in the process. He hated it as a child, hated it as a teenager, and now hated it as a “fairly” famous musician. He would never think of himself as a nationally-acclaimed rock star as tabloids often called him, though in reality “fairly” famous was somewhat modest. Rock star just felt like a silly schoolboy term. He wasn’t a “rock star” he was a musician, a damn good one at that. But “fairly” famous he was, and with that came the responsibility of an image. With image came cameras. With cameras came the paparazzi. And with the damn paps came tabloids, rumors, and tainting of careers. Five, six, years of it, and he was still baffled by the ridiculous circus created by the press to appease the common masses’ envy. He hadn’t the first clue as to how to handle everything. So, all in all, Arthur hadn’t been the one to make the big career-saving, personal life-ruining decision. Personally, it irritated him. Creatively, it stifled him. And sexually? Well, frustrated didn’t quite cover it, but there you go. The whole plan had infuriated Morgana.

“You’re a _musician_ for God’s sake! Aren’t you supposed to be in touch with your feelings?” She had ranted and raved for hours about all those years she had spent cultivating his sensibilities, supporting him despite the confusion, leading him to the truth when he was in outright denial. And he’d finally found a taste of happiness, so he was just going to throw it away?

Well, admittedly, he almost had, but he finally found a line he refused to cross. In fact, it was Morgana’s violent outburst that (not that most of their interactions were of the non-violent variety) had given him some perspective. An epiphany of sorts, or what his manager would deem a career-ending move. Frankly, Arthur has just decided that a career didn’t matter all that much to him. He would still have a pen and a guitar, and so much more. Some things were just more important than thousands of dollars rolling in (not much, but there _were_ some. One in particular). Still, he would never admit to his sister that she had helped him discover this.

Arthur stood anxiously in the wing of the studio. Usually, he wouldn’t be standing there alone, hair and makeup teams dabbing and grabbing at him. His anxiety would typically be soothed by long, thin hands, a toothy grin, and adoring blue eyes. But two days ago when Arthur’s manager had given him an ultimatum, that support had painfully flinched away, asking for space. Just for a while. Arthur immediately called the studio, pulling every string possible to get space on the earliest show. Still, he felt that sudden absence in his life acutely, despite its recent appearance. Arthur wasn’t sure he could survive another day of it, which is why he had been up since the split working. But if he was asked to, Arthur would survive. He chose to focus on this instead of the nagging producers and backstage people. He was too focused on his task for the next hour to care about much else. They could have put him in a skirt and there was a good chance he would have failed to notice. This performance and subsequent interview was going to change his life.

The lights dropped, he heard his cue, and went out onto the stage into deafening applause. guitar in hand. Arthur settled easily onto the stool, one foot on the bottom rung, the other solidly on the floor. He was so comfortable onstage, the lights hit him and the rest of the world faded. Sure, he drew on the crowd’s energy, but it was truly an outpouring of whatever was within him. He felt more alone and powerful onstage than anywhere else in the world. Everything just happened so seamlessly. The crowd quieted.

“I’ve got a surprise for you all tonight. New song. Hot off the press.” There were adoring screams; he strummed a few strings for effect. He chuckled at the raw twang of failure, trying to remember the damn chords, “Shite!” he called out “That was terrible! Give me a moment, just wrote it yesterday. Trying to remember.” Arthur took his time, letting his fingers move deftly over the strings. “Haven’t even written this one down. Probably won’t. It’s rather personal, so I won’t be playing it live. Ever. Again.” There were gasps and screams, the crowd thinking themselves privileged and special. “At least not for you lot. Wrote it for my Heartbreaker, someone I love more than anything. It’s called,” and he leaned into the microphone to get that deep, sultry effect he knew they loved, “ _Dragons_.” There was cheering, but the room quieted again as he started singing.

_Hey Heartbreaker…_

_You let me let you down, you know I always do_

_And yet you know, I know, there’s not a damn thing I wouldn’t do for you_

_I’ve flown across the world,_

_Flying so high, just out of reach_

_But you draw me in, bring me back down,_

_Keeping me tethered to the ground_

_And now I’m here_

_Where I never thought I’d be_

_On my knees, at your feet_

_Begging you to stay with me_

_You’ve bewitched me, casted your spell_

_Saved me from the loneliness I call hell_

_It rips right through me, to the heart of me_

_Haunting my dreams at night_

_Without you, I’m just not all right…._

_Two sides, same coin_

_I won’t let anything happen to us_

_Love, all you gotta do is ask_

_And I’ll slay all your dragons._

_Remember that day we stayed in bed?_

_Coming over and over again_

_Letting ourselves be taken in by the heat we made_

_I told you that I loved you_

_And you promised to never leave_

_Come what may_

_I remember everything about that day_

_Your kiss, your touch, your words screaming out to me_

_Burned in my brain, Locked in my memory_

_You don’t know what you do to me_

_Making me bleed so effortlessly, for wanting you_

_Please say you’ll stay (3x)_

_I’m begging you just say you’ll…_

_Staaay wiith mee-e!_

_You’ve bewitched me, casted your spell_

_Saved me from the loneliness, I call hell_

_It rips right through me, to the heart of me_

_Haunting my dreams at night_

_Without you, I’m just not all right…_

_Two sides, same coin_

_I won’t let anything happen to us_

_Love, all you gotta do is ask_

_And I’ll slay all your dragons._

_There’s a world of gold behind your eyes_

_And I see it when I see myself in them…_

_I almost lost you once_

_Once was more than enough_

_I swore never again…I swore never again…Never again…_

_I just want you close_

_I just want to save you_

_I want to be saved by you_

_Say you want that too…_

_Two sides,_

_Same coin…_

_Stay with me_

_You’ve bewitched me, my love, got me on my knees_

_Right where you want me, begging and pleading_

_My heart, my heart is wherever you are, wherever you want to be_

_I offer it up so-o eas-ily_

_Because your spell, it rips right through me, to the heart of me_

_You’re haunting me, catching me in my dreams at night_

_Don’t be afraid, don’t be a-fra-id, it’ll be all right, I won’t let anything happen to us_

_Say the word, just say the word, say the word, and I’ll slay the dragon_

_For you_

_I’ll slay the dragon…_

_I’ll slay all your dragons_

_I will slay the dra-gon…._

_Just say you’ll stay_

_I will slay the dra-gon_

_Anything you ask of me_

_I will slay the dragon….._

_Two sides, same coin_

_And I’ll slay the dra-gon for you._

The crowd was caught in the moment with him, caught up by the tears that reluctantly slid as he leaned in towards the microphone. His face lit up a large screen behind him, all hard angles, contorted as he crooned his love song, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, blonde hair glinting in the spotlight as it drooped into his eyes, all in Hi-Def. The women swooned. They always did. But they swayed, just as enthralled by the flow of energy as he was, the melody slamming against the wall and settling into their chests. It was a group mentality that had them soaring to the heights of a collective musical orgasm. And even after Arthur strummed the last chord, they weren’t satisfied until they had strained their vocal chords with unabashed squeals and screams. Arthur was appreciative, bowing, holding up his hands in thanks, dabbing at his eyes, all where the cameras could see. The lights slowly went up as Arthur was greeted by the show’s host, Lance DuLac, as an old friend. They _were_ old friends; had grown up together, in fact. So it was particularly fitting for Arthur to do this particular interview on Lance’s show. Lance understood better than anyone Arthur’s motivations for the decisions he had made and would continue to make. He’d had problems of his own trying to keep his personal life and his family out of the public eye. Lance didn’t know what Arthur was intending, but he knew it was important, and so felt obligated to be the medium for Arthur’s scheming. They sat down in leather chairs together.

“Arthur Pendragon, everybody!” Loud cheering. “You’re just brilliant mate, really had them going.”

“Thanks, Lance,” he nodded to the crowd, “Audience.” There was even louder cheering, which both men grinned at.

“Some of you may be wondering why Arthur performed before our chat, and I’ll have you know that it was a special request made by the man himself. Any particular reason, sir?”

“I wanted my muse to hear it first, before this chat. A preface, if you will.” This got the crowd’s attention. Arthur Pendragon was notorious for addressing his ballads and love songs to the infamous “Heartbreaker”, his muse as he often said, but never told anyone who it was. Most assumed it was Mithian Lavane, heiress and Arthur’s reported girlfriend of three years, but this was never confirmed by either of them. A very astute fan had pointed out on a forum that Arthur’s songs often talked about blue eyes, dark hair, and pale skin. Mithian, a woman very much in the public eye, was blonde, brown eyed, and tan. This led to a frenzy of suggestions as to who the mystery woman could be, some thought it was his sister, a few other celebrities were named, but again, nothing was ever proven or confirmed. Arthur just went right along, addressing his songs and dedicating albums to his “Heartbreaker”. He found it all very amusing and wonderful that he got to keep his secret.

“A preface? Now you’ve got us intrigued, mate. I suppose your song was written for that tart girlfriend of yours. What’s ‘er name again…Rattigan?” Arthur rolled his eyes, the crowd tittered appreciatively.

“Mithian.” Lance was decidedly _not_ a Mithian fan. Hadn’t been since the beginning, allying himself with Morgana.

“Right, right. Suppose she’s backstage, blurry-eyed and waiting to shag yer brains out, eh?” The crowd roared at the prospect.

“Mithian’s a lovely woman and a good friend, but no to the aforementioned suppositions. And, Mithian is _not_ my girlfriend.”

There was a pregnant awkward silence, but Lance, ever the professional, recovered. “Bad break up, eh?” Now was as good of a time as any.

“Er, no. No, we were never together. Something set up by the studio actually.” He paused. “And she knows and approves of my outing her as my beard this evening.”

There were gasps. Loud ones. Screams. Nervous laughter. The crowd was a myriad of emotions. Lance leaned in, concerned.

“Your…” Lance didn’t know what he was supposed to do in a situation like this, Arthur could appreciate that much. “Arthur, what…?”

“I’m gay. Known that for a long time now. My manager had me convinced that homosexuality didn’t gel with a profitable rock star image. But, I mean, Elton John pulls it off all right, eh? So I fired the bloody prat this morning. So, if anyone’s looking, I’m hiring.”

The audience went absolutely insane. A wild cacophony of cheering, screaming, applause, and what sounded like hateful commentary. The producer, panicking, was about to cut to commercial, but Lance made them hold.

“So is there a bloke then? A special _someone_ to inspire this publicity stunt?” The question was loaded. Lance knew the answer already. He was one of the few privy to Arthur’s personal life. And it’s hazards. Obviously, he did not agree with Arthur using it for attention.

“Not a publicity stunt. I’m just tired of lying to everyone. I’m making my point and I’m making my position on the matter clear. But to answer your question, yes there is someone, though I’m not sure if he will want to stick around after this. I won’t drag him through the madness if he doesn’t want it. But I hope--I hope he stays.” The last was said in almost a whisper. “Really do.”

 

Merlin Emrys sat in his dingy flat, stunned, watching Arthur on Lance’s show. Lance did the prudent thing and stuck to asking joking questions about Arthur’s life as a forcefully closeted gay man. It all went rather smoothly, but Merlin realized that probably had more to do with Lance knowing which questions to ask. Wonderful, _amazing_ Lance, who was a superhero for putting up with his moronic boyfriend for so long. If he were Lance, he would have ditched the tosser ages ago. He smiled to himself. Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

 Merlin suddenly realized that the show had been taped early that day and Arthur would be home now, probably hiding, if he hadn’t been mobbed by paps. Merlin groaned when his phone started ringing. It seemed he would have to hide too. He put the ringer on silent, made a quick grab for his shoes and coat, and dashed out into the street for a cab. Once acquired, he leaned back into the seat, smiling, bemused. That daft, beautiful man. Merlin had melted hearing that song. Arthur had a way of shedding his public mask when he started singing. The pure unadulterated love for what he was doing would trace every line of his face. His body would give into it easily, curving around the microphone, exposing those strong-looking and beautifully masculine features Merlin so loved. His neck. His chin. The width of his chest. Those goddamn broad shoulders. The list went on.

It threw him back to the first time they’d met: at Morgana’s. She owned a string of high end boutiques and Merlin had been hired to manage IT. At the time, he had been living in a flat the size of a broom closet, eating discounted noodles three times a day, and spending all of his money on books. Books which he often lent to Morgana, and they had quickly became friends, uniting against the hopeless, nagging managers. Of course she had casually mentioned who her brother was over tea once, but Merlin never paid much attention to popular culture, and never expected to face the prospect of actually meeting him. Fortunately, Morgana loved throwing dinner parties, and inviting nearly everyone she knew to them. Which was to say, quite a lot of guests. She found Merlin’s ignorance to be the perfect ego-deflating moment for her dipshit brother and begged Merlin to make an appearance. Naturally, this first meeting hadn’t gone so well; Arthur had been such an insufferable ass that Merlin threw a drink in his face. Morgana had clapped amongst the rest of the guests’ nervous twittering, but Arthur just _beamed._ Positively glowed. People were usually hanging all over him, asking him stupid questions, he later admitted; Merlin just insulted him. _Insulted him without even knowing who he was_ (They hadn’t been introduced properly just yet). Despite that first incident and Merlin’s original alliance with Morgana, he and Arthur fell into friendliness quite quickly. Actually, meeting Arthur…Merlin was just struck. Even though it had been a rather tumultuous introduction, Merlin was man enough to admit that his attraction to Arthur from the get-go was not inconsiderable. There was an energy and magnetism about Arthur that was compelling. He had no (true) airs despite his fame, and was obviously kept humble by friends and family who never failed at an opportunity to lovingly mock him. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t an arrogant prat. For Merlin, it had just become endearing. Arthur had wasted no time asking him out; he had all the subtlety and finesse of a plane crashing into a train wreck. Merlin teased him ruthlessly for it, but Arthur still held that he had pushed all of his wooing abilities to their limit to “seduce” Merlin ( _Bloody hell_ ). He chuckled to himself, Arthur’s idea of seduction was…well…something similar to the stunt he pulled on Lance’s show. Some things would never change.

And actually being with Arthur? It was the most exhilarating, infuriating feat Merlin had ever accomplished. They fought like madmen ninety percent of the time, fought like children five percent of the time, and were glued to each other for the remainder. A year later, when they were still covertly together, Morgana revealed to Merlin that this had been her masterful plan all along. She had once gotten the newly-come-out-Arthur drunk, demanded to know his type, and kept an eye out ever since. She had spoken to Merlin for all of two minutes before she began scheming about how she was going to set them up, and in the end got more than she bargained for: a best friend. Crafty woman.

Merlin thought he would faint before he reached Arthur’s flat. The place was very posh, exclusive, and had the tightest security anywhere. It was damn hard to get into, but Merlin knew all the security guards’ first names (probably their wives, too, Arthur often teased with good reason). They greeted him pleasantly and were unconcerned by his presence. Arthur obviously had the penthouse, so the lift ride was excruciatingly long. Merlin fumbled for his keys in a haze and let himself into the dark flat.

That particular key had been exceedingly difficult for him to get his hands on. It became quite clear early on that Merlin was necessary to Arthur’s daily weirdness. Even if the blond was entirely focused on writing, ignoring Merlin quite ruthlessly, Merlin’s presence seemed to facilitate the writing process. On occasion, Arthur would manhandle Merlin into sitting with him as he played, teaching him a few chords so he was free to write, setting aside the guitar to make Merlin come without an expectation of the favor being returned, and the songs would roll out easily, freely. The best stuff he’d ever written. Merlin’s favorite times were when he was unceremoniously dragged to the studio just to be present while Arthur played with a myriad of other musician friends (there was also a band called The Knights who showed up regularly: Elyan, Kay, Percy, and their singer Morgause), who also agreed that Merlin had a startling effect on their playing. After Arthur discovered this, Merlin rarely ever saw his own flat. He would drop by it in the morning, grab a few things, head to his 9-5, and then traipse back over to Arthur’s and spend the night. More often than not, he would just read, make sure Arthur was eating properly (because for being a beautiful, wealthy celebrity he was scandalously incapable of feeding himself regularly). Clean. Morgana once accused him of acting like Arthur’s personal servant, but Merlin didn’t mind. Arthur had had bad telly worthy problems with hiring help in the past; somehow personal items would go missing and show up on online auctions, or very private pictures would leak out via camera phones. It was too much stress on top of everything else, so Arthur had just given up all together. Merlin figured he spent all of his time there, used everything as much as Arthur did (if not more so, the kitchen was egregiously neglected) and so pitched in his share. But, Arthur was still unreasonably private. And paranoid. The thought of giving away extra keys to his flat, keys that could be stolen by some ambitious pap, made him shudder. Merlin found it ridiculous that the guards greeted him like a resident and he still had to knock on the door.

Again, it was Morgana’s intervention that saved the day. She gave Merlin her set of keys. Arthur had been appalled by the betrayal: “I did it for your own good!” “I’ll have none of your lies, witch!” Still, Arthur never demanded they be returned; if Merlin didn’t know any better, he would say the musician was a little gleeful that Merlin had elbowed his way in for no other reason than wanting more intimacy with Arthur. And the arrangement proved to be beneficial; Merlin got a serious living upgrade (though he kept his flat, much to Arthur’s chagrin) and Arthur had a house sitter whenever he had shows overseas. Merlin found that being left behind was easier when he could curl up in their love nest with a book, a book he would never be truly able to focus on because Arthur would text him every other second or call or want to video chat or demand to watch the same film over the phone. Bloody pest. Honestly, Merlin secretly loved that Arthur called, though he’d pull his own teeth out before admitting it. Being away from him so physically, where he couldn’t get to him quickly, it would leave Merlin a little breathless and not in a good way. The thoughts that would suddenly strike him were terrifying. Merlin didn’t have any family; his father had abandoned his mother, Helen, before he was born and she died of cancer before he met Arthur. So, Arthur was his whole world. Being able to hear his voice was soothing, being in his flat with his things, in their flat with their things, was soothing. 

Occasionally, Morgana, Gwen, Gwaine, or Will would show up to keep Merlin company; thinking Arthur cruel for abandoning the man, but came to realize how ridiculous Arthur was about their separation and teased him ruthlessly for his needy behavior. It went without saying that Arthur was unappreciative of this response and almost demanded that Merlin not let their friends into the flat while he was gone once. Once and only once. And almost. Merlin had scoffed and completely ignored him, telling him not to be an overbearing prat. If he could jet off across the world doing God knows what with God knows who, then Merlin could entertain company occasionally when he was gone. This led to an argument which ended up in the bedroom and Arthur declaring that Merlin could have the Queen over for tea for all he cared, as he kept doing what he was doing at that particular moment. This led Merlin to start referring to himself as a sex slave, and he wouldn’t have it, there would be rebellion. Of course, Arthur had just rolled his eyes, called him an idiot, and proceeded to screw the man into the mattress.

 All in all, the key was precious metal, something he kept on his person at all times. Probably the only item Merlin owned that he never lost (everything was hopelessly lost into what Arthur had dubbed The Emrys Vortex).

Anyone would have thought the place empty if not for the open door to the terrace and the sweet sound of the guitar seeping in. And it wasn’t just any song he was playing, it was “Moon River”. Their song. Noiselessly, Merlin crossed the flat and leaned against the opening, rewarded with the sight of Arthur lounging in a chair, strumming his instrument (One that Merlin had bought him for birthday, and although there were so many guitars scattered around Arthur’s flat, this one was easily recognizable due to the painted inscription on the back. It was not nearly as valuable or as quality as the ones Arthur had been gifted by the studios, or the ones he’d purchased himself, but every song he’d written in the past three years had been birthed on The Merlin, as Arthur called it), and humming the harmony. Arthur had that hushed, posh voice that made his voice deep and dreamy with the ability to lull someone to sleep or turn them on. Knowing Arthur wouldn’t notice him until he said something, Merlin stood there quietly for a moment, allowing himself to relish the scene and gather his nerves. Because Arthur had the ability to patently ignore the rest of the world while he played, Merlin often found himself staring without fear of being caught. The stress of Arthur’s work and celebrity status show physically, exhaustion, bags under his eyes, slight wrinkles setting in. Merlin swore he was prematurely graying. But when he played, oh when he played. This look of epiphanic serenity settled into Arthur, he looked childlike, catching the wind of a particular high others couldn’t quite understand. It was beautiful to witness. Something truly magnificent. Merlin shook these thoughts away suddenly. He had to be firm here.

“Hey dream-maker,” he said softly. Well now, that wasn’t firm at all. Arthur acknowledged him was a wide smile, but didn’t really look up. He was still stuck in his reverie.

“Heartbreaker,” came the greeting. _Wherever you’re going, I’m going your way_ …

 Merlin smirked and tucked his foot behind the leg he was using for support.

“You’re a high-handed prat, you know that?” he said a little loudly.

It did the trick. The sweet music stopped instantly and Merlin was engulfed by confused, bright blue eyes which quickly assessed him.

“You-..?”

“Yes. I saw.” He said perhaps a little harshly. He had to make his point. “I only got ten messages from you telling me to watch. Should have known it would be a spectacularly over-the-top gesture.” Merlin paused, sighing inwardly (This was difficult to do, Merlin was quite fond of sighing, but Arthur was always highly suspicious of them), when Arthur looked a little crestfallen. “I said I needed _time_ , Arthur, not this.” He gestured aimlessly.

“I gave you time,” Arthur pointed out, using a hand to emphasize, and deliberately ignoring that second to last comment. Admittedly, Merlin was impressed that Arthur had waited as long as he did before doing something ridiculous. Merlin should have known better, Arthur was always _doing_ something.

“Less than a day.”

“I do lots of things in less than a day. Write songs, do shows…”

“Out yourself on national television?” Merlin offered, finishing for him.

Arthur looked a little sheepish, but not at all ashamed. “That too.”

“I shouldn’t even be here, your place is probably be staked out.”

“Don’t be an idiot, this is the only place you should be!”

“The truth is that I don’t know if I can do this. It’s one thing to be seeing you quietly while someone else takes all the attention…”

“And suddenly everything’s different just because I would rather it be you? Because I don’t want to lie? I don’t want to hide you anymore?”

“That’s a “well done you”, moment, Arthur. You’re a better man for it. But I’m not exactly rock star’s boyfriend material, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Arthur stiffened. “Well you’ve been pulling it off beautifully for three years.”

“No, I’ve been Arthur Pendragon’s boyfriend for three years. Not Arthur Pendragon, international rock star extraordinaire.”

“That’s my point! I’m both! You can’t just have the half of me, if you want me, then you have to take all of me. Both sides. Good and bad. Come what may.”

“I want the _real_ you and I don’t want to have to share us with the rest of the world.”

“We can be as public or private as you want to be, M.” He swung his legs over the side of the chair to face him. “But all this…” he gestured outwards and over the terrace edge, where there was most likely swarms of paparazzi waiting for the opportune moment. “It’s easier with you here. I handle myself so much better with you next to me.”

Both their mobiles were flashing incessantly, calls and messages flowing in unrestrainedly and urgently, and being ignored nonetheless. Merlin sighed heavily, sinking into the door frame, and running a hand through his thick, moppish dark hair.

“Arthur…”

The musician recognized this as a Dangerous Sigh. One Merlin usually employed to preface his noble intentions; when he was about to do something stupid for the sake of (insert-noble-cause-here). There were two things about Merlin he had learned to be wary of: thinking and sighing. In that order. He’d thought he had put a rest to the thinking part, but there he was sighing. And in Merlin-land there were different Sigh Levels: Happy Sigh, Sad Sigh, Annoyed Sigh, Sigh of Bitterness, Defeated Sigh (a combination Sigh of Annoyed and Happy), and the sigh particular only to Merlin: Dangerous Sigh. Things got…well…dangerous following a Dangerous Sigh. And this was _definitely_ Dangerous Sigh. The sound of it forced Arthur to scramble up and out of his resting position, casting the guitar with what might have seemed reckless, but was rather cautious considering his present state of mind.

“No, no, no, no, no. Wait! Hear me out!” He came to stand in front of Merlin, eye to eye, and his hands went to his favorite spot: just behind Merlin’s ears. Arthur had the weirdest fascination with Merlin’s ears (“They’re just…inordinately _large_ ”). “You heard the song?” Merlin blinked slow for yes. “Liked the song?” He rolled his eyes up and away with Annoyed Sigh as Arthur’s hands clamped down on his bony forearms a little desperately. “ _Did_ you like it?”

“It’s not about the damn song!” Merlin snapped finally. Apparently Arthur took this as a yes anyway.

“And you love me?”

There it was. That always shockingly breathtaking note of insecurity in Arthur’s voice that he would place at Merlin’s feet. An admission. A sacrifice. There was a point in time when Merlin hadn’t been entirely sure who was getting the “real Arthur”, him or the rest of the world. The versions were so vastly different, and Arthur could slip quite seamlessly into either one; a vulnerable expression shooting across his face one moment, all stoniness and forced smiles the next (though Merlin now placed the blame for this on Arthur’s father, Uther, who was emotionally retarded and incapable of behaving like a human being, especially where his son was concerned). It took Merlin an irritatingly long time to put his own mind at ease. Honestly, it _was_ a little far-fetched that a gorgeous rock star would be so enamored with a nerdy IT guy. The moment Merlin really understood the truth was when an old family friend of the Pendragons, Gauis, died suddenly of a heart attack. The funeral had been posh and extravagant, everything that Gauis would have hated but Arthur insisted upon (Merlin had met Gauis at one point and the two were thicker than thieves) and everyone was appropriately morose. Except Arthur. It had horrified Merlin; there was something so false and downright disturbing about his looks and behavior throughout the day. If anyone else noticed, they didn’t mention it, in fact, Arthur was heavily relied upon. Gauis’ family was too distressed to make decisions, everyone was sobbing, and reporters were trying to sneak in due to the heavy celeb presence. The only reason anything went smoothly was because of Arthur; he managed and paid for the whole thing without batting an eye, even gave a beautiful eulogy (original song included) without faltering once. The whole day left Merlin baffled. That is, until they reached the flat. The sudden transformation had been alarming: shoulders drooping, face bunching in distress, and he’d had a difficult time breathing (this is also when Merlin discovered Arthur was prone to panic attacks and never told a soul about it, the moron). Tears followed quickly. Quiet ones, but tears nonetheless. Merlin, not missing a beat, pulled Arthur into bed and held him the whole night, soothing him and letting him sob into his chest. Merlin never questioned who got the real Arthur again.

Merlin softened, looking up at that daft, beautiful man who was staring at him intently like a hopeful puppy. Whatever it was Arthur discovered while digging through Merlin’s expression, he accepted it as a positive response and surged in for a kiss. Merlin melted. He always melted. And his hands cupped the sides of Arthur’s face as he was hauled up unceremoniously against the length of the musician’s body, all but lifted off his feet. They whispered their reassurances of love between kisses, against lips, and breathlessly. Kissing Arthur was easy and addicting like nothing else was. He felt treasured, branded, adored, and thoroughly ravished all at the same time. Their kiss was eager lips and greedy tongues, Arthur’s hands bruising and scorching wherever he touched, Merlin moaning, responding enthusiastically to his boyfriend’s crushing rhythm, and shivering closer into Arthur. And Arthur savored this response to his attentions.

Their relationship hadn’t been the easiest, he admitted. Even after months of dating, they hadn’t told anyone about it except Morgana. Well, that wasn’t really true; they hadn’t _told_ Morgana, she was nosy and guessed. The harridan. Eventually, Merlin told a couple of his closer friends that he was seeing _someone_ after a bit. A couple of Arthur’s friends figured it out when Merlin showed up wherever Arthur was, but they never commented on it (bless them). After a year, it was serious and Arthur told his manager, who told him they needed to get him a beard. Mithian being paraded around as his girlfriend had been the worst bit. After about a month of that, each of them told those closest to them, all of which had accepted the whole thing graciously and without comment. Except for those on the Morgana’s-team-against-Mithian; they were fairly vocal about their disapproval of the charade (the harpy). Regardless, Merlin had stayed patiently supportive, unnaturally understanding, and loyal almost to a fault. Arthur loved him all the more for it. And he loved Morgana (despite her meddling harpy-harridan witchy ways) for being Merlin’s pillar through all of the crap. He loved their friends Gwen, Will, Lance, Gwaine, and the others for being supportive and helpful. Honestly, the efforts were in all likelihood more for Merlin than himself, but anything good for Merlin was good for Arthur. Loving Merlin only increased his love, his ability to love and be loved. And it was wonderful.

But then his manager, Agravaine, had said it was necessary for him to marry Mithian. Elope scandalously. Make a big splash on the front page. They had been “dating” too long, according to the music industry veteran, and it looked suspicious. In reality, it was only suspicious because Arthur was actually a poof and not, in fact, sleeping with his reported girlfriend. Agravaine had become ridiculously paranoid on the subject, and completely old school. Gwaine had been with Arthur practicing at the studio at the time. Despite the man’s inability to stick to one place, project, or woman for more than a few days, Gwaine was a ridiculously brilliant lyricist and musician. They often wrote and played together, even persuading Gwaine’s stubborn brother Leon to join them. Agravaine had taken to calling them the trio from hell because even after hours of playing, screwing around, and hitting brilliant heights of inspiration, they generally didn’t have anything workable. Agravaine would rant and rave about the studio, contracts, and wasting time, but Arthur would be grinning from ear to ear hours later. Inspiration would hit; he’d pull from their jam sessions and write something brilliant. It had been one of those occasions when Agravaine had rudely interrupted. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Gwaine, Arthur might have broken his manager’s face. Gwaine saw Arthur’s feelings for Merlin the most clearly; it just came out in the creative process. He saw more than anything the fragility of the situation; Arthur had gone down the rabbit hole of maintaining a false public face, the repercussions for the couple would be grueling and terrible. Had Arthur gone another direction, it might not have worked out so bad. No one would really _care_ that he was a poof, but he had _lied_ about it. Took bad advice; took bad advice Gwaine wished he had been there to mock and contradict. But being late to the advice-giving party, Gwaine had decided to take the logical side of the argument.

“It might make things easier for you two, mate. Public sees what they want to see. If you’re married to some bird, they won’t question you spending time with Merlin.” And when Agravaine tried to agree and thank him, Gwaine promptly threw a notebook at him and told him to “piss off”, “shut the fuck up” and “keep his money-buggering self” on the other side of the room. Turning his attention back to Arthur, he made serious eye contact. “Talk to Merlin. Don’t do anything til you talk to Merlin.” Then he clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder and set about getting security to kick Agravaine out of the studio for the day. Stifling the artistic process with his mindless capitalist blather, and some other ranting. Gwaine’s father owned the studio; it was quickly done.

Arthur hated it. From the beginning he had thought it a terrible idea, but his protectiveness of Merlin and their privacy had trumped everything else. And Merlin hadn’t really protested. He didn’t want to be in the spotlight, or go to award shows, or have to put on a public face like Arthur. His life was simple and easy, so he’d plunged down the hole right after him, never complaining. So when Arthur came to him with Agravaine’s idea, he couldn’t truly be shocked that it had come up. Arthur had somewhat of a family-friendly image; he’d said in numerous interviews that the whole domestic scene was appealing to him. He just left out the part that he wanted it with a man and not a woman. Regardless of all of that, Merlin admitted that he would accept whatever decision Arthur made whole heartedly. He agreed that while it was an awful and complicated sham, they might benefit in the long run. Merlin only resented Mithian a slight bit that much Arthur could see and understand. Honestly, he resented her presence in his life too, but Merlin never said a word, never offered a protest, even going so far as to coach Mithian when she was dragged along to interviews. The man cared more for Arthur’s career than even Arthur did; music was something Arthur loved and Merlin would never ask him to give it up. They were both fighting on the wrong sides of the argument: Arthur should have been trying to make Merlin go along with it, Merlin should have been telling him how awful the idea was. That was just how they were when it came to their relationship, fighting on the wrong side for all of the right reasons. But Merlin didn’t understand that music had ceased to be Arthur’s sole medium of happiness; Merlin had become that center. He walked out the door anyway.

The panic he felt whenever Merlin was away from him had set in immediately. He never told anyone about it, certainly not Merlin (he had the nagging suspicion that Merlin might suspect anyway), but the first night they were separated (Arthur had a show in Munich) Arthur had a panic attack. Literally couldn’t breathe for a moment or two. Merlin was so physically out of his reach, alone, without him. What if something happened? What if Merlin needed him? What if that crazy ex of his showed up again? An irrational thought process, but Arthur had no control of it. Immediately, he called Merlin and had felt better. It was horrifically embarrassing, and Arthur kept it in mind whenever he left. But the thing was, Merlin had a right to a normal life, Arthur refused to selfishly whisk him away every time he had to travel, especially when it was dangerous for both of them. Still, that dull ache in his chest would show up and the need for Merlin’s reassurance was overwhelming. Watching Merlin walk out the door, away from him, out of his life, possibly never to come back, Arthur stopped breathing. He couldn’t call Merlin (the thought almost made him vomit), so he did the next best thing and called Morgana. She had raced over to his flat, trying to console him, but mostly just lecturing him, the witch. Watching Morgana close the door behind her, the painful image of Merlin flared up in his brain, and he grabbed his phone to call Lance (he was always _calling_ people). Merlin had tried to give Arthur time to think, give himself time to think. He didn’t need it.

Arthur broke off their kiss.

“Please stay. I know it’s a lot to ask…”

“You’re going to be all over the news. They’ll be _looking_ for me,” Merlin pointed out, not releasing him. If anything, he settled more comfortably into Arthur’s embrace. They both knew better than to take their physical comfort with each other at face value. One time two years before, during a particularly hectic time for Arthur, they had been in the midst of a nasty row, still kissing, and temporarily broke up. Merlin had been gone two hours before Arthur had chased after him, and Merlin had only gotten as far as the coffee shop down the street.

“I know.” Arthur seemed even less inclined to let go.

“Things are finally normal at work. People respect me for the work I do, I have connections, and friends.” Arthur looked like he was going to vomit, and Merlin’s mouth twitched into a grin. “But I wouldn’t miss this, _you_ …” Merlin placed both hands on Arthur’s chest, “ _us_ , for anything. You _daft_ man. Besides, who else is going to remind you what an astronomically-…?”

Arthur cut him off by crushing his lips to his, fingers clenching into his shirt. Merlin’s hands moved lazily to slide around Arthur’s neck. “Enormous,” Merlin breathed into Arthur’s mouth as Merlin’s thigh shifted in between Arthur’s, sliding up and down just so, “ _prat_ you are,” he finished as Arthur moaned.

“As long as it’s coming from that disgustingly beautiful mouth of yours, it’s the highest of praise.”

It was no longer a reaffirming kiss, but a power struggle. Merlin taunted, and then retreated; Arthur attempted to take him by sheer force, only to shiver at the slightest taste of Merlin’s tongue. Their struggles would only sate the hunger the both felt, each daring the other to raise the stakes. It was only when Merlin coolly slid his hand down and into Arthur’s pants, eyes wide open, staring, as he drew in the bow of Arthur’s upper lip, that Arthur admitted defeat with a groan. The musician pressed himself into Merlin’s hand, drawing a chuckle from Merlin who squeezed. Eyes narrowed, Arthur pushed him back into the dark of the flat, both of them diving in to kiss and ducking to shed clothes, a dance that got them no further than the couch.

“I am sorry about the ridiculous, over-the-top gesture,” Arthur admitted between kisses as he chucked his pants and moved back into Merlin’s sphere, directing his attentions to the pale neck. And he probably was…a bit. Arthur wasn’t exactly the apologetic type.

“Too late,” Merlin breathed, shoving Arthur down onto the couch and straddling him. Confused blue eyes met laughing ones. “Already forgave you.” Arthur positively beamed, sitting up, hands grasping the sides of Merlin’s head, just behind the ears and pressed the most chaste of kisses to Merlin’s lips. Merlin giggled at the oddity, and licked the tip of Arthur’s nose before pressing him back down into the couch.

 Their love-making was feverish and intense, anything but hurried. Merlin liked to tease, to take his time. He slid into Arthur slow and measured, wrenching screams from the man. Before Merlin would allow himself to come, Arthur would be drenched in sweat and begging. He would then turn his attention to Arthur, letting his lips graze a trail down his stomach, past his hips, and lower, ruthlessly torturing the pleasure from Arthur until he was writhing and pleading to be finished. Then they would tangle themselves together, kissing and nuzzling, wanting more skin contact. Merlin knew his punishment for teasing would come later, and cruelly, but for now they were both satisfied and Merlin rested his head on Arthur’s chest, easily soothed by his ragged breathing. He quietly wondered how many pictures of him would surface by morning, which of his co-workers would sell the tabloids information about him, what the headlines about Arthur’s official coming out would be. There was no particularly good way to banish these thoughts, so instead he focused on the fact that Arthur’s face was pressed into his hair and there was a rather possessive hand around his waist. Would it be like this out there? Was that possible? For all of this wonderfulness to be transferred despite the madness? Would Arthur be just as possessive out in his world as he was in their home? There was no way of telling, no way to predict it. He got the sense Arthur was thinking along those lines as well and Merlin looked up at him to confirm it. What he found caused his breath to hitch: not just love. It wasn’t just love. It was too much; Merlin never knew there could be more. Instead of confronting this, he buried himself desperately back into Arthur’s side.

“I can’t _believe_ you mentioned the dragons,” he whispered.

“Idiot.”

“Prat.”

Arthur laughed.


	2. Merlin Gets Interviewed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Arthur comes out, all the talk shows want to interview Merlin. He's not thrilled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut, just fluff. Reviews are love, comment in the thingy!

Merlin fidgeted under the scrutiny of so many people. Just twenty minutes ago, he had found himself, in a three-piece Armani suit, perfectly primped and coiffed in the most uncomfortable leather chair his arse had ever graced. At least three producers would come by to talk to him, coach him, and calm him. They rotated, sent interns with glasses of water, food, anything he wanted really, and more of the production staff just to distract him. They bustled around like wasps, seemingly benign but perfectly capable of venom. Not that any of their efforts were helping. For the first ten minutes, Arthur had perched himself coolly (and a bit protectively, if you asked Merlin, but Arthur insisted that Merlin was completely capable of taking care of himself so being overly defensive was illogical) on the chair’s arm and had his arm draped carelessly around his boyfriend, dipping in occasionally to make some comment or give him last minute advice. Merlin was perfectly aware of the interns twittering at the picture they made, and he found it hard to believe that pictures of it wouldn’t leak in less than the hour it took to tape the interview. He was reassured somewhat by Arthur’s indifference to the whole of it, but was more comforted simply by having Arthur present. He batted away interns who got to close, snapped at the producers when they were too simpering or tried to bully Merlin. But the EP had shooed the blond musician out of the studio some time ago, claiming he was just causing a ruckus. This EP happened to be a friend of Morgana’s, so Arthur immediately protested, throwing a fuss, and drawing more attention to himself than was decent. Merlin could only roll his eyes and pray for it all to be over soon. The EP had been in the process of pushing Arthur off stage and towards an exit when Merlin shot him one of the most helpless looks ever to cross the man’s face.

In most cases, Arthur could simply crack a grin or say something prattish to make Merlin smile, but this wasn’t most cases. This was one of those rare moments when Merlin needed to lean on him, when Arthur had to prove himself. Not because he was being judged or tested, but because Merlin needed and deserved one hundred and twelve percent of Arthur’s attention and efforts. And in these rare cases, Arthur couldn’t rest until he knew for sure that Merlin was okay, that Merlin knew he wasn’t taken for granted and that he was loved intensely and beyond reason. It took all of a moment to duck out of the EP’s grasp, sidle up next to Merlin, dive in to kiss the man, and thread a hand through the dark, thick hair. His lips moved firmly over Merlin’s, pressing, tugging, and ever so slightly sucking. It was sound, deep kiss, and Arthur could feel himself drawing the tension from Merlin so he aggressively ignored the attention earned by this exhibition.

“M, listen to me,” Arthur said after breaking the kiss, only enough to put his forehead to Merlin’s, “Just think of it like a conversation with my father, right? He asks personal, stupid, and sometimes insulting questions? Sometimes just to get a rise out of you? Right,” he breathed when Merlin nodded, “just answer her like you would answer my father. Honest, concise, and with some detail. Just leave out the important bits, yeah?” Arthur smiled as his blue eyed Heartbreaker let out a Happy Sigh (in reality, Happy Sigh would have to be divided up into separate categories, but Arthur would think about that later). They kissed quickly once more for good measure before the hair and make-up team noticed Merlin and clucked that Arthur was ruining their work. He only smirked at the crew and winked at his boyfriend before sliding on his aviators.

“I dunno ladies, looks like an improvement to me.” The women squawked their disapproval, shooing him away, and Arthur, ever the entertainer, had managed to make a graceful and gallant exit drawing the attention of everyone present and a fond but chastising glance from Merlin. One of the quieter interns, a mousy girl with thickly rimmed glasses, Merlin thought her name was Jeanne, who stood holding their hair and make-up girls’ supplies, leaned in conspiratorially to Merlin.   

“I can’t disagree with him. You look dreadfully uncomfortable.”

“This suit is more expensive than everything I own, discounting my computer.”

She nodded, understandingly, “Not that you looked badly or anything…just don’t seem right….No offense!” she squeaked quickly. Merlin smiled reassuringly.

“None taken. This isn’t my style. Isn’t my thing.”

“Must be difficult. Dealing with all this after having such a fit, rich lad all to yourself, no questions asked.”

“Bit difficult, yeah. But worth it.”

“Because you love him?” She was sweet, kind. He couldn’t imagine there was a bad bone in her body, or any sort of malicious design. Jeanne was asking simply because she was Jeanne, and not because Merlin was any sort of celebrity. He appreciated that. The rest of the crew seemed intent on treating him like some attention-starved prima donna. Arthur had thought it hilarious the way they were all bending over backwards to keep his boyfriend happy. Merlin, however, thought it was more than just ridiculous, it was aggravating. But underlying Arthur’s smug glee was the strong taste of pride, and for Merlin that just…it was…

“More than anything,” Merlin said a little breathlessly. It must have seemed a bit of a silly thing to say, or else was ridiculously soppy, but the mousy intern softened with a broad grin of understanding.

“I saw the show. His song? It was brilliant. But honestly, the first one he wrote was my favorite. My fiancé sang it to me before he proposed.” Ah, there it was. The spark of a comrade. Jeanne recognized in Merlin what was so apparent in herself. They were the Cinderella stories, the lucky misfits who found someone they never thought would look at them. And Merlin had the very strong impression that Jeanne’s fiancé said the same thing Arthur always did. “Oh shut up, _Mer_ -lin! We both know I’m on the better end of this arrangement!” Okay, well, Jeanne’s fiancé was probably a sweetheart and not a prat, and would have said something a little more romantic and reassuring, but nonetheless. Jeanne seemed like the solidly wonderful kind of girl who would be the making of the right guy. 

Merlin beckoned her closer, his heart warming to his fellow luckiest-misfit-in-the-world, “It’s my favorite too.”

But now Merlin was left boyfriend and fellow misfit-less, plagued by increasingly irate producers. He was nervous, biting his ridiculously buffed nails (the EP had _insisted_ ) and was tapping out the rhythm to a Smiths song with his Italian leather shoes (Merlin swore on all that was holy that the outfit was heading to the nearest thrift store the second he walked out of the studio). All that was left was to wait on his interviewer, a young and sharply beautiful entertainment reporter, Daniela Winnow. She had arrived to the studio much later than Merlin, her wardrobe took much longer, and the EP was ready to have the woman’s head on a platter. He stopped by repeatedly to apologize to Merlin, saying that this never happened and everything would get started and go smoothly soon enough. He tried to placate him, but the EP’s attention was divided. People kept running to him with questions and complaints. The second he finished talking to someone, there were four more people to direct. Merlin wanted to feel sorry for the man, but honestly, he was a little spiteful as a result of being dressed and primped like a monkey. If the EP had to suffer a little during the process of making Merlin miserably nervous, so be it.

The tension in the room lessened visibly when Daniela walked onto the set, attention buried in her mobile and two interns trailing her, trying ever so hard to appear important. Merlin found this entrance to be somewhat ridiculous, but he realized the others were relieved she had entered at all. Rumor had it that Daniela was a posh bitch and nearly impossible to work with, here was Merlin’s evidence.

He wasn’t sure how this was going to go, simply because Arthur had never agreed to an interview with this particular show before. In fact, he had turned them down on several occasions, citing Daniela as the primary reason for his reluctance. So Arthur’d had the fantastic idea of pushing Merlin in her direction. She might be pleased that she was getting such an exclusive interview (the only one he would ever agree to do) or she might take out the years of Arthur’s consistent rejection on him. But Arthur had immediately thought it up when he and his new manager were discussing Merlin’s one and only interview. If the new manager hadn’t hesitated, and Arthur thought it was a good idea, then Merlin had no idea why he should argue.

Daniela was as cool and chic in person as she appeared to be on screen. Her sharp features were only heightened by the crisp cut of her clothing, and her dewy complexion. Her dark curls were a mound on the crown of her head, and her lips were the color of blood. Daniela moved with the grace of a predatory cat, her hands whipping like the heads of snakes. There was a darkly shaded vanity in her every aspect, screaming conceit and superiority to anyone who had the fortune of looking at her. If Merlin had any common sense, he would have been deathly frightened of the woman, even more so when she turned the full force of her attention on him.

“Merlin Emrys,” she said with the cruelest grin he had ever seen, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. And my, aren’t you stunning? One does hear things, but you never can know quite what to expect.” A look of sheer panic overtook him. “Oh don’t worry, pet, word travels fast. It took everyone all of a few hours to figure out who you were after Arthur’s little stunt. Good job doing a quickie interview. Makes it all easier.”

“Er, thanks?”

Daniela looked at him doubtfully for a moment before hissing orders at her interns who scampered to do her bidding. Her grin was positively reptilian when she slid into the opposite chair. Merlin shuddered inwardly, understanding why Arthur constantly avoided such a creature and was completely baffled as to why he had thrown Merlin into her clutches. A producer came and triple checked their microphones, and then shot the sound crew a thumb’s up, which set off a cascade of them giving each other cues.

“All right, Daniela. Merlin. 3, 2…” Another thumb’s up.

“Good evening, my name is Daniela Winnow and today I have for you a very, very special guest. Known to the British public as Arthur Pendragon’s “Heartbreaker”, Britain, allow me to introduce you to Merlin Emrys.” The camera panned to Merlin’s nervous face. He was quite beautiful: a comfortably lithe body, slender neck, high, sharp cheekbones, chin, jaw, and upper lip lightly covered with facial hair, plush pinked lips, and with his dark hair so thick with product it gleamed, his eyes were a blazing sapphire blue. Only his ears were goofily large. His ever so pale skin was perfectly set off by the deep black of the suit and the dark azure of his shirt. With the technical tricks of the cameraman, Merlin thought he’d look like some sort of ethereal elf to people watching at home. The shot showed up on the big screen behind them for effect and some of the staff cooed, like he was an adorable pet. “We are very honored to have you here, Mr. Emrys.”

“Merlin,” he corrected lightly, “Please. And it’s lovely to be here, thank you for the opportunity.” _Be overly grateful_ , they had told him, _polite, open, and as honestly nervous as you can be._ They wanted the sympathy card. They wanted him to play the loving partner. It wasn’t difficult to do, really, because he was that kind of person, but it was unnerving that everyone else believed it was all for show.

“Aren’t you just a doll? Are you nervous? I can’t imagine you’ve done,” she gestured to the rest of the studio, “any of this very often.” It was a subtle dig, one that Merlin chose to ignore. He would do himself no favors if he nitpicked at everything that appeared to be or sounded like an attack on Arthur.

Merlin nodded, “Yeah,” he agreed, “it’s a bit overwhelming. I’m just a backroom nerd, you know? Behind the scenes. This is significantly out of my depth.” Which was the truth.

“You manage the technology for Morgana La Fey’s string of boutiques,” she clarified. _She’ll start out simple, ease you in. She’s a professional. She’ll want you comfortable, trusting, when she starts prying and asking the tough questions. Be candid, but stick to your guns. Don’t back down, but don’t let her run the show._ Maybe these entertainment reporters could lure people into a false sense of security, but so could he.

“Yes, security, the website, store computers, their systems.”

“All by yourself?” she asked sweetly, seeming impressed, but Merlin knew an insincere smile when he saw it.

“There’s only a few shops, so it’s more a matter of maintaining and improving now. Plus, I’ve got an assistant. It’s easier to pull it off on a daily basis if I don’t have people screwing with my set up.” She chuckled appreciatively at that.

“That is quite impressive.” She leaned back, siren smile on her face, “And you met Arthur through your employer.” So it begins.

“Yes,” he nodded, hands gripping his knees, “Yeah, Morgana and I were good friends by then. She threw one of her infamous dinner parties and invited me to stop by.” Invited him, he said, stop by, he said. The reality was more along the lines of kidnapping and Stockholm syndrome.

“And that’s where you met Arthur Pendragon, gorgeous rock star.”

Merlin smiled, remembering, but laughingly. “We did meet there. It was, well, not exactly a smooth beginning.”

Her brow arched, amused, believing she was getting gold. “Oh? Not exactly love at first sight, then? No soul mate connection?”

“Hehehe, no, not exactly. If you ask Arthur, well, Arthur’s a bit delusional, so it’s best that you ask me.” He chuckled nervously, “I didn’t know who he was when he started talking to me. I mean, Morgana had _told_ me, but I’m a bit hopeless with pop culture. He was- he was a bit much…”

“Beautiful? Confident? Posh?”

“A prat,” he interrupted sharply. “He was an utter wanker, though he will tell you differently, but, you know, polite people don’t get glasses of Pinot Noir in the face.”

“You threw _wine_ in Arthur Pendragon’s face?” she asked, eyes wide, jaw nearly dropping. He rolled his eyes accidently ( _Don’t be sarcastic or condescending, she won’t react well_ ). Merlin couldn’t help it though, people treated Arthur like he shat gold and vomited daisies. Sure, he was very charming and sweet onstage, but he _was_ Arthur after all. His Arthur.

“Yes, yes I did. He absolutely deserved it.” And he had deserved it, even admitted it later.

“How did he respond?” Daniela asked, overly eager now. _Hold off the negative aspects for as long as possible. Draw her in with the good stuff, get her to like you_.

“Not like everyone expected. Arthur does have a bit of a temper, I think his friends were expecting him to blow up at me.”

“He didn’t?”

Merlin beamed and tried not at all to hide it, “No,” he said quietly, “He didn’t.” And Merlin had probably fallen in love with the man right then and there. He knew full well that the fond look on his face could be seen by everyone in the country and that it betrayed his real feelings, but that’s what they wanted, right? Authenticity? Still, Daniela was waiting for a real answer. “He laughed,” Merlin said finally, “Just laughed and smiled at me like it was the best thing that had happened to him all week.” It probably was. That had been shortly after he had released a new album which critics hadn’t taken a liking to, his future career was being questioned, some already labeling the young Arthur a one hit-wonder.

“Sounds like a meet cute,” she teased.

He had to give her that, so nodded with a shrug, “A bit. Felt just as surreal, too. Same thing with the few following months.”

“Did he have to woo you for so very long?”

Merlin’s eyes darted to the side, “Not exactly. But-… you know, you expect musicians to be a bit over-the-top, but Arthur’s a special breed.”

“Not very subtle, then?”

“I’m fairly certain that there is no trace of the word in Arthur’s mental lexicon.”

“Oooh,” she cooed, “getting the dirt.”

“Anyone who saw Arthur on Lance’s show would be pretty aware of that. Not a big secret,” Merlin said a little defensively. _No point in getting defensive, just keep calm._ “But yeah, Arthur wasn’t…delicate, in the dating process. Understated isn’t his thing.”

“Any examples?”

“Well…” _With some detail. Just leave out the important bits, yeah?_ “I was somewhat reluctant to go out with him, uncomfortable with the celebrity bit, so he said we could stay in.” Merlin spread his hands like an offering, “Naturally, he left out the details of how this was going to happen. I came back late from work one night, he had broken into my flat, place was covered with lit candles. He had ordered a five course meal from an expensive Italian restaurant, music was playing, the place was done up beautifully, and it was just…”

“A bit much?” she echoed reasonably.

“Let’s just say I would have been ecstatic with cheap noodles and bad telly.” Daniela laughed. “But no, it was great. _He_ was great.” Merlin decided not to add that gifts and flowers and notes had arrived at his office and flat every day for the next few months. Expensive gifts, lovely poetic notes. Merlin, at the time, had just gotten out of a pretty bad relationship. His ex, Victor, was an abusive, controlling, and manipulative hack of stock broker who had been sweet at first, understated, and then turned into the neglectful bastard he really was. Arthur had a pretty steep learning curve, and had figured out that the monetary value of his efforts mattered not at all. Eventually, they became personal and far more romantic. More notes than gold jewelry, wrote him songs instead of buying him a car, and helped him invest in his computer rather than buying him a new wardrobe. Things had gotten better, more comfortable, more loving with time rather than the increasing breaking apart that had happened with Victor. Arthur had tailored his life to complement Merlin’s rather than forcing Merlin to fit to him, which Merlin had been all too willing to do. Maybe that was it, the mutual need to fit together rather than trying to change one or the other to make it work. Not that Merlin wouldn’t have jumped through rings of fire to make it work between them. One sincere smile from Arthur, one of those stubbornly silent pleas, and Merlin would cave unwittingly. Arthur was that classic sort of gorgeous, all the hardness of an athletic form with utterly human softness in all the right places. Men that looked like him had no business being with men like Merlin, but Arthur stayed. Chased after him when he tried to leave. Demanded not only his attention, but his affections, his loyalty, his heart. He gave Merlin hope that there were good, generous people out there in the world. That there were truly noble and unselfish people like Arthur. Every day, Arthur gave him a portion of his faith back, and Merlin was unceasingly grateful.

“And obviously it worked,” Daniela’s softened voice interrupted his train of thought. He looked up, startled by her tone only to find something akin to confusion on her face. It wasn’t confusion, maybe real curiosity? Merlin was baffled and did his best to ignore it, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t nervous anymore. He was on this woman’s level. He could handle it.

“Very much so. He did eventually stop throwing his money around for me, but I couldn’t really fault the enthusiasm.”

“Hard to resist, I can imagine.”

That thought sent Merlin back to their first night together. The first night they’d slept together. Arthur had been absolutely, ridiculously extravagant as he always was. He had invited Merlin over to his flat, claiming it was “just dinner”. Merlin inwardly snorted at the idea. With Arthur it was never “just” anything. Now-Merlin laughed at Then-Merlin spitefully. He should have known better. But Then-Merlin had been completely stunned. The lights had been low, curtains drawn, fireplace lit, candles everywhere (like literally on every surface), he had ordered Merlin’s favorite dinner from his favorite restaurant, a playlist of Merlin’s favorite songs was playing, and Arthur had been dressed as a waiter. Yes, Arthur Pendragon had waited on him, hand and foot, for near an hour. Merlin stood in the doorway for three whole minutes, just laughing at Arthur, calling him mad, but kissing him nonetheless.

_“You’re not real,” Merlin had said, laughingly, as Arthur’s arms snaked around him._

_“I’m taking that as a compliment.”_

_“I wouldn’t,” Merlin teased, “only a prat like you would plan out something so elaborate just to get laid.” Arthur’s opened his mouth to protest, only for Merlin to start laughing harder, only upright because Arthur was holding him._

_“You’re really ungrateful, you know that?” Arthur had said, trying to be serious, but not unaffected by Merlin’s mirth._

_Merlin had kissed him, serious for a moment. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You don’t have to prove yourself to me at every turn. I know…” The look they shared was pregnant and long as Merlin trailed off. Merlin had recovered first. “Besides, I’d sleep with you without all the…” tossing a look around the flat, “fire…”_

_Arthur had shrugged, expressionless. “That’s cause you’re a slag.” Merlin had been torn between kissing him again and slapping him, but chose instead to pull his lips to the side in a pucker._

_“Prat.”_

_“Idiot.”_

 And after dinner, Arthur had put on Classic Who and there were massages, and Merlin was vaguely certain he had been serenaded at some point in the evening.

Merlin threaded a hand through his hair, tracking the same path Arthur had made before. “Very,” he admitted a little ruefully.

“And you’ve told us that your relationship progressed for over a year before you told anyone? How does that work?”

“It was about a year, yeah, but only before Arthur told Agravaine. His previous manager? Uhm, Morgana knew two weeks after it started. She’s quite clever (at snooping, he thought privately) like that. Arthur’s friends knew within a few months, mostly because Arthur would drag me to the studio whenever I had time off. I told a few friends after that. But yes, it was kept unofficial,” he used air quotes for that one, “for about a year.”

“And that’s when Mithian Lavane came into the picture.”

Merlin sighed, looking down at his fidgeting hands. All right. “Yes, Mithian.”

“You sound hesitant to talk about her. I can imagine that it was difficult having to watch a woman hang on your boyfriend’s arm, to hear her tell everyone how very much in love they were. In reality, how did the two of you get along?”

Merlin took a moment before answering. It was important, not just for Arthur’s career, but for Merlin himself, that he answer this as accurately as possible. Daniela just wanted the dirt, she wanted Merlin to tell her that he and Mithian fought and sniped at each other, that he thought the girl was a bint and a whore. She wanted gossip, sleaze. But Merlin would never do her the disservice. “Mithian is lovely. She’s a wonderful, sweet person and we’ve become very good friends.”

“You can certainly understand my doubts.”

Merlin sighed visibly. If Arthur had been there, he would have labeled this one as a Sigh of Bitterness. This was reason number three why Merlin had agreed to let Mithian proclaim herself as Arthur’s girlfriend. The press wanted chaos and pain, their pain, not the truth.

“I don’t know what else to say. We have tea on Saturdays, I go to all her parties, and she’s the spokeswoman for one of my favorite charities. I suppose if you don’t believe me, you’ll have to ask her.”

“Fair enough,” she paused, re-positioning herself, getting ready to go in for the kill. “Regardless, explain to me the logic of Arthur’s charade. For lack of a better term, of course. Why not just come out from the beginning?”

“He had a right to a private life. Just like everyone else.”

“But not everyone else lies. They just keep it private. It doesn’t seem ridiculous to you? Maintaining a fake girlfriend publicly for years in a time when homosexuality is generally accepted by society?”

 “Honestly, it wasn’t the best of plans. Arthur is very loyal and very trusting of those close to him. When the idea was presented to him, he had every reason to believe it was in his best interest. We both did. And, I’ll be clear: however ill-advised our decisions may have been, Arthur and I did make them together. If I hadn’t thought it was in his best interests, I wouldn’t have gone along with it and he never would have let it happen if I hadn’t agreed.”

“So it’s fair to say that you take the responsibility for Mithian’s presence? You blame yourself?”

Merlin’s lips twitched into his irritated grin. “It was never about responsibility or blame. It just felt necessary.”

“Necessary for your famous boyfriend to hide you away and lie about your relationship?”

Ah, there she was. The snake. “In a word? Yes. I wasn’t ready for any of this. Our privacy was more important than a faceless public knowing the truth. I’m not exactly glamorous or suited to…” he echoed her earlier gesture to the studio, “any of this, and Arthur is amazingly self-sacrificing when it comes to my comfort. I wasn’t going to let him sacrifice his passion and his work because I’m self-conscious.” Merlin was firm, his voice unwavering. It was important. This was important.

“And you weren’t ever insecure about Arthur’s motivations? You _never_ thought he was some scared and closeted gay man trying to cover up his dirty little secret by openly dating a sex icon in public?”

She really was going to harp on this. “Not once. As I said, the important people knew. His family, his father, knew. Our friends knew. I couldn’t care less about what his fans knew or thought.”

“That doesn’t seem selfish to you?”

“In what way? Arthur may be a celebrity, but he’s a person too, he has a right to be happy, to have personal things kept personal. Unfortunately, that meant he had to masquerade as a straight man for a few years.”

Apparently, this wasn’t a line Daniela was willing to pursue. Making herself into the prying, insensitive bitch against a celeb’s protective boyfriend wouldn’t help her ratings.

“So then there’s the real question: what changed? If everything was going so swimmingly, why the bloody hell he would he so completely ruin it on national television?”

They had prepared Merlin for this question. Arthur had been asked, he would be asked repeatedly, but his answers were and would always be vague and bland. Agravaine may have been a poor manager and a greedy son of a bitch, but Arthur had once considered him family and refused to draw him into the picture any more than necessary. At least, himself. The new manager was all for Merlin disclosing the details. Not everything, of course, not specifics, but what sparked Arthur to pull such a public stunt needed to be explained. That didn’t stop their last conversation on the subject from popping into Merlin’s brain.

_“I just don’t want to do this anymore,” Arthur said._

_“Arthur, Mithian is…”_

_“Lovely. Wonderful. Absolutely photogenic. But she’s not you.”_

_“I thought I talked too much.”_

_“You do,” he admitted with a shrug. Merlin rolled his eyes at that point. “I don’t know what you want me to say, M! I’m telling you that this is a bad idea!”_

_“If you really think that, then why is this a discussion? Why not tell Agravaine to piss off and let it drop?” Arthur faltered. “Because you’ve got to be the hero. You want to keep me out of the spotlight and safely tucked away.”_

_“People believe what they want to…”_

_Merlin nodded knowingly, as if Arthur had just said the most obvious thing in the world. “If you marry Mithian, no one will notice you spending time with the skinny IT guy.” Arthur had palmed a wall and stalked off to the kitchen for a beer._

_“Arthur, you can’t just walk away from this,” Merlin had followed him._

_“You’re not some dirty secret that I have to sweep under the rug, Mer-lin! What could really happen? Publicity is publicity, right?”_

_“Not profitable publicity,” Merlin muttered._

_“I’m just a_ musician _for god fucking sake! My personal life has no bearing on the real world. It’s music. It’s art! Who the fuck cares what I do in my spare time?”_

_“No one, Arthur, I’m sure no one gives a damn. But you lied. We lied. And I can’t make this decision for you. I won’t make it for you. If I tell you not to marry her, you out yourself, and the publicity ruins your career, you’ll hate me for it…”_

_“I would never…”_

_Merlin had only held up a hand to stop him. Arthur obliged, crossing his arms bitterly. “And if I tell you to marry her, and we…and we crumble, then I’ll never forgive myself. And neither will you.”_

_Arthur shrugged, “So what do we do?”_

_“_ We _don’t do anything. You have to choose. And I’ll be there for whatever you decide. No matter what you decide, okay? I just- I just need time.”_

_“Time?” Merlin nodded sadly._

_“I can’t be…here while you’re deciding. I need a little time to adjust, to figure this out.”_

_“Are you…are you saying…?”_

_“Just a little time.” He had put a hand to Arthur’s cheek. “Just some time.” And he had put together an overnight bag and left._

“I never said it was perfect. We certainly had our difficulties. It was hard. We bicker as it is, and we definitely argued a lot about this. But Arthur was presented with a choice. Arthur was advised to marry Mithian, purely for business…” Merlin decided to leave out the bit that Agravaine had wanted to televise the event, sell novelties, or else do the elopement route, the bad boy vibe, and sell the story and pictures to the tabloids after leaking it to the press. Merlin had to control his temper. He had to seem to be above it.

“Must have pissed you off,” Daniela responded, truly shocked. She had been told that Merlin had left Arthur, probably assuming (like everyone else) that Merlin had thrown a hissy fit, telling Arthur to choose between him and his career. Now _that_ pissed Merlin off.

“I honestly wasn’t completely surprised. Everyone thought he had been dating Mithian for about three years. He’s told people that he wants a family, getting married seemed to be the natural progression.”

“Please Merlin, you seem like a _wonderful_ person, but no one is that much of a saint.”

Merlin laughed a bit at that. Arthur had argued with his manager about the vibe Merlin was supposed to try to give off. _No one’s going to believe the truth. Why not? Why not?! The man’s a bloody saint! He’s the most irritatingly patient and understanding person I’ve ever met in my life! And I should know! I’ve lived with him for three and a half years! But no one and I mean_ no one _is going to believe that he was going to let me do it. That_ he _thought it might be the better option. No, no, he’s going to have to lie and tell them he was making me choose. That’s what they want to hear anyway._ Arthur had ranted and raved for hours on the subject, fighting the both of them every step of the way. They finally left it up to Merlin to decide how he wanted to do this. The truth did seem a little empty, and the lie was certainly easier, but that had been the truth of his entire relationship with Arthur. They went along with everything simply because it was easier and it impacted the way they felt about each other not in the least. Merlin had expected Arthur to marry Mithian. Arthur expected Merlin to lie on national television to avoid being called a liar. It looked like both of them were going to be surprised.

“I am decidedly _not_ a saint. I’m sure Arthur and our close friends can attest to that. He gets away with _nothing_ when I’m around. But…But this was different. It wasn’t about our relationship or how we felt about each other, it was about his future, about his career. There was nothing easy about the decision we had to make. Obviously, I didn’t _want_ the love of my life to publicly marry, a woman no less, but if it meant we got to keep our life the way we had built it, if it meant he could rest easier, keep making his music, then I was prepared to handle whatever he decided.” He snorted derisively. “We’re always on the wrong sides of any argument, and this particular one was no different.”

“How do you mean?”

“He should have been trying to persuade me to go along with it, and I should have been fighting tooth and nail against it.”

“That would be the logical assumption, yeah.”

Merlin smiled thoughtfully, looking back down at his hands, and twisted the gold band on the ring finger of his left hand. There was an inscription, _Two sides_. Merlin’s ring held the first part of that phrase, Arthur’s had the second: _One coin_. It was something repeatedly said about them, so similar, but so bloody different. Perfectly compatible.

“Nothing about my relationship with Arthur has been logical.” He looked back up at his shockingly beautiful interviewer. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Taking into consideration that Arthur is a busy and famous musician and that you have a 9-5, what’s it like being with him?”

“You-you mean, how do we get along, Arthur and I?” he clarified a little stupidly. Obviously she meant that, but Merlin was trying to buy some time. Every time someone asked him that question, Merlin would stutter and stumble all over himself. Daniela smiled at the sudden reappearance of his awkwardness.

“Yeah, yeah, I kind of mean that.”

He blushed. “I-uhh, well. I’m not quite sure how to answer. It’s just something that happened. We just rolled with it.”

“So-o, your day to day…?”

“You know, food, work, friends, more food. There are arguments, dates, a lot of take away, and bad telly. It’s not much different from my past relationships...it’s just…”

“Complicated?”

“Better,” he corrected firmly. “It’s so much better. And it’s never been about his fame or his money. I’ve had rich boyfriends, they were bastards. Arthur is so…different. There’s just something about him, you know? He walks into a room and all eyes are on him, but it barely registers. I won’t lie, he’s not perfect. He can be an arrogant prat, an utter wanker, but there’s a part of him…if you can get to it, that cares. Deeply cares about the people around him. He’s not the best at showing it, but…you learn to notice the signs.”

“Like the over-the-top gestures?”

Merlin nodded laughingly, “Yes, very much like the over-the-top gestures.”

“And what about you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, obviously, Arthur gets a great deal of support and patience from you. Don’t bother arguing, it’s pretty obvious. What does Arthur give you? How do you benefit from being with him?”

“I’m not sure it’s really about benefitting.”

“You’ve already said it’s not about the money. You’ve never had any of the spotlight. He’s a bit emotionally stunted- my words, not yours” he grunted his assent. “So what is it? Despite his “deep caring”, what about him makes you stay when it would have been so much easier to leave?”

“No it wouldn’t.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It wouldn’t have been easier.”

“Your rock star boyfriend with an unpredictable schedule was hiding you from the spotlight to maintain his image, you’re saying it _would not_ have been easier to leave? I think for most people the choice is pretty obvious.”

“I’m saying that there would be nothing _easy_ about leaving Arthur,” he clarified. The look of confusion that crossed Daniela’s face caused Merlin to lean forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands out in offering. “I knew within weeks of meeting Arthur that…that we needed each other. That we belonged together. He infuriates me. To no end. Sometimes, his concerts are very well timed.” There was a long pause as he just looked at Daniela. How could he possibly explain any of it to her? To this woman, who pried into people’s private lives for a living, who probably hadn’t had a healthy relationship in years. How? He dragged a hand over his face and sat back into the chair. “I can’t go a day without talking to him. When he’s gone, it physically _hurts_. My whole life? I’ve never felt safe. I was on my own a lot as a kid, my mother worked nights and slept days. I was more a burden and cause for worry than anything else. String of bad relationships. With Arthur…it’s coming home. Finally…fitting into a puzzle. Having someone need you as much as you need them, no bars, no need for discussion…it’s just natural. Even when Arthur and I are at our worst, even with the idea of him publicly marrying Mithian…the thought of not being with him is more unfathomable than any of it. I’d rather fight with him every day than even begin to try loving someone else. There’s nothing _easy_ about Arthur. Loving him, leaving him, understanding him. None of it is easy, but it’s easier with him there.” That look from when Merlin was talking about their first date was on her face again. Honestly, Merlin was pretty sure most of the spouses, boyfriends, girlfriends, etc. that came on the show talked like this. Vowed their undying love for whatever celebrity they were dating. They would talk about how so-and-so was perfect and amazing and their whole world, said that they would do anything for them, brave any sort of difficulty. Merlin couldn’t imagine that he was saying anything out of the ordinary, and yet Daniela Winnow was not reacting in her typical manner. He wasn’t sure if this is what Arthur meant by lulling him into a false sense of security or…

“You…” she started, a little flustered.

“Love him,” he finished.

Daniela just stared at him blankly, like he was some alien who just dropped out of the sky and into her studio. She was able to snap out of it a moment later when a producer hissed lowly at her. She apologized quickly with a blush. They continued talking about said relationship, how the dynamics worked, what Merlin did when Arthur was away, how their families got along. The studio let out a collective gasping sigh when Merlin admitted that he had never known his father, that his mother was a few years dead, that Arthur was all the family he had, and that Arthur’s family had adopted him without hesitation.

“So, now that you two are public, any ideas on marriage? Kids?”

Merlin let out a barking laugh. “When we quit arguing over who would propose to whom, I’ll let you know. But kids? I mean, we haven’t really discussed it, but it’s certainly a possibility. I don’t think we’ll go the Brangelina route of adopting the world, but one or two, sure.” There were shared, appreciative chuckles. Daniela suavely transitioned into the sex discussion, making Merlin blush and babble a bit nervously.

“Who tops?”

“ _Lord_ ,” Merlin breathed, resting an ankle on the opposite knee. “Shameless wench, aren’t you?” He rolled his eyes at her satisfied Cheshire grin, a little to Morgana-like for his peace of mind. “It really depends on the day, how long we’ve been away from each other. Equal, I’d say, does that satisfy your curiosity, you harpy?” Daniela giggled like a naughty school girl, obviously loving her job and Merlin’s discomfort. Most of her guests were so casual about sex, so open with it. Merlin was novel and fun to tease, as Morgana often told him.

“Of course not, Mithian was always so quick to praise Arthur’s prowess, that now we’re hungry for real details!”

“Well,” he said slowly, “then you should probably know that I coached Mithian through most of those interviews. Gave her answers,” Daniela’s eyes positively bulged with glee, “so pretty much everything she told you all was entirely true.”

This made Daniela let out her bark of real laughter. “Should’ve guessed!”

They talked more, finally being sincere with each other. The production staff would later remark how kind and soft Daniela had been, nearly affectionate. Arthur would snort at the EP’s amazed tone, “Dunno why you expected less. Women _love_ him. He’s like their charming gay puppy.” The interns took to calling Merlin the “snake-charmer” after that.

Daniela was wrapping up the segment, pleased with the interview when she titled her head.

“Now, Merlin, before we leave, I have two questions to ask. First, why does Arthur always call you “Heartbreaker”? Have a string of jilted lovers behind you, eh?”

Merlin giggled, he couldn’t help it. The idea was silly to think about, to a point of ridiculousness. Honestly, Merlin thought the nicknames were backwards, but whenever he said as much to Arthur, the only response was teasing so Merlin eventually let it go.

“I wouldn’t say jilted. Hehehe, no. It’s from a song.”

“Cryptic,” she cooed and Merlin bit his bottom lip, blushing. “And does he have a matching nickname?”

He laughed uneasily, “You’ll have to ask him.”

 “Okay, second question. In Arthur’s song, the one he performed on _Late with DuLac_ …” He nodded, “Why dragons? What’s so special about dragons?”

Merlin positively beamed, his pale skin utterly tinged with red. A lot of people had asked, and when he said a lot, he meant _a lot_. There certainly was a story.

“Personal. Personal, personal, personal. I label it confidential and toss it into a guarded vault.”

“Guarded by a dragon?” she teased.

“Only if Arthur doesn’t kill it first.”

The studio graciously offered him a ride home in one of their limos. That didn’t stop paps from drowning him in camera flashes as he exited the studio.

There certainly was a story to the dragons. In fact, Merlin still wasn’t sure if he was flattered or embarrassed that they had found their way into Arthur’s nationally performed one-time song. It _was_ rather personal. It had started when he was a boy. One of his mother’s boyfriends had been watching some horror film where some character’s dragon tattoo came to life when he was high. The scene had been rather terrifying for a four year old and Merlin had nightmares about the dragon for months. They were so bad that he had started wetting the bed, screaming out in his sleep, and he even tried to stop sleeping for a few days because he was so scared. Merlin’s mother, Helen, broke up with said boyfriend and did her best to calm her son whenever possible. Unfortunately, the image stuck. When bad things happened, when Merlin was scared, or just anything negative really, the dragon would re-emerge in his subconscious. Sometimes there were three or four. There were several dragon nightmare-free years, until his mother died. The flare up had been awful; he didn’t eat properly, sleeping was nearly impossible, and there was nothing to calm him. Then came Arthur. Arthur, his knight in shining armor, Arthur who clung to him during the bad nights, who demanded to know about the dreams, who would whisper to Merlin that he didn’t need to worry because he would kill the dragons for Merlin who only had to ask, Arthur who banished the nightmares by simply being there. Lately, when Merlin dreamt of dragons, they were docile. Flying. Merlin sometimes flew with them. They talked. It was like magic. Naturally, Merlin had told Arthur none of this. It was simply too ridiculous, too silly and sappy. But Merlin clung to it.

 Luckily, the security at their building was top shape (Tomas and Pete were on duty, the two were the burliest and rudest of the bunch, and they loved Merlin) and so none of them were able to trail the limo into the parking garage. Merlin got out of the car before the driver could open the door, he thanked the man for driving him with an easy smile and a handshake.

“Here, mate,” said Arthur from behind Merlin. Arthur’s hand materialized over Merlin’s shoulder offering money to the very grateful driver. “There’s extra there in hopes that you can convince the paps one or both of us is still in the car.”

The driver smirked, taking the money with a curt nod, “I’ll do my best. Roll down the back windows a crack, pretend to try and lose them.” He winked.

Arthur beamed, clamping an arm around Merlin’s waist. “You, sir, are a gentleman and a scholar.” And he dragged a still confused Merlin to the lift.

“But…” Merlin spluttered as Arthur crowded him against the door, locking his lips onto the pulse point of his pale neck.

“Mhmm…?”

“I though-aw-t you were recording all day today?” His hands dug into Arthur’s sides as he tilted his head to allow better access, but Merlin was still squirming. He really wanted to talk about the interview.

“And miss the opportunity to calm you down before you go into your worry-overload nap? Please,” Arthur nipped a bit sharply at Merlin’s ear which sent a shiver down his spine. Just as Arthur was pressing himself closer, his woodsy scent overwhelming him, the doors to the lift finally opened, and Merlin was roughly pushed into one of the corners. Arthur only paused to hit the penthouse button before latching onto Merlin’s lips. He smelled like soap and coffee and lemon. Lemon? Yup, definitely lemon. Merlin gave up resisting, realizing sex was imminent and Arthur would see the interview soon enough. Arthur moved roughly between Merlin’s legs, inching him slightly off the ground, and Merlin had to hook his arms around Arthur’s neck. Merlin was wedged into the corner of the lift, held firmly in place by Arthur’s thigh, and was completely in Arthur’s power.

They barely made it into the bedroom.

“M, hot as you are in that suit, we really need to get you out of it.”

“Could say the same about you,” Merlin shed his jacket, and pulled away to carefully unbutton his shirt. Arthur’s eyes bugged out when he tried to help and was shoved back onto the bed. “Now, while I have your _undivided_ attention. You should know that it went well. I think. At least, I didn’t say anything too shocking.” Now that Merlin was in briefs and socks, Arthur pulled him onto his lap. Merlin rocked his hips forward, drawing a groan from Arthur, who pressed a kiss to Merlin’s chest.

“Good.” Arthur rolled to top Merlin, “I wasn’t really worried.” The dark haired man looked up at Arthur, confused, for a moment. It was almost skeptical. “What?” Arthur demanded. “I wasn’t. I threw a saint into the Devil’s den. There was no way you could screw it up.”

Merlin bolted upright, forcing Arthur to sit back on his ankles. “So you admit it! You picked Daniela precisely because she is so awful!” Arthur was more amused than offended.

“Of course I did. Knew what to expect with that one. She’d be horrid and insensitive, so you wouldn’t be lulled into a false sense of security. Guys like Lance, they make people feel too comfortable. It would have made you…uncomfortable.”

Merlin searched his boyfriend’s expression for some hint of irony, but found none. “Your logic is baffling.”

“It’s entirely sound.” Now he was feigning offense. “Daniela Winnow doesn’t pretend to be anything but a heartless bitch. People keep going to her because they know the viewers love her.”

“You’ve turned her down four times for interviews!”

“I know,” Arthur agreed emphatically, “she’s a viper! I wouldn’t touch her with a ten foot pole.”

“And yet you let the love of your life be interrogated by her.”

Arthur’s face scrunched up in seriousness, like he hadn’t considered that before, and shrugged. “I knew you could handle it. Terrible people always love you.” Merlin considered this for a moment, and stroked Arthur’s hair. The man was comfortably straddling Merlin’s lap at present, tolerating his boyfriend’s ministrations while he worked through whatever thought had provoked the sentiment. Given Arthur’s typically arrogant, rock star attitude, it was easy to forget what a terribly low opinion he had of himself. There was a fine line between intimate ribbing and emotional degrading, and Merlin refused to even skirt close to that line anymore. He had once, sometime during that first year they were dating. Merlin had been overworked, cranky, and a little sullen about the impending Mithian situation. That wasn’t an excuse, he admitted it readily, but it had been enough. One comment to Arthur about not living up to “his father’s lofty standards” and his paltry excuses and justifications could never account for his incessant ass-kissing and pandering. It was the cruelest thing Merlin had ever said to anyone. Ever. It had been petty, unnecessary, and had sent Arthur into a frenzy. That was the thing about Arthur, he made Merlin capable of things he’d never thought possible. And that comment had provoked the nastiest fight they’d ever had, not because either of them thought of leaving, not because that they truly believed anything they said in those few hours, but because they had no intention of leaving, because they were willing and capable of wielding the other’s affections like a weapon, and because they knew exactly what to say to cut the deepest. It was three hours of screaming, accusing, and crying. Arthur had thrown something heavy. Merlin had broken a vase. After four hours, they were sitting next to each other on the kitchen floor, Merlin’s head on Arthur’s shoulder, with tear stained cheeks. “You should have said something sooner,” Arthur had said quietly, “You just have to ask.” He had tugged Merlin closer to his side, wrapping him in a bear hug, face buried in the dark mass of hair. This had been foreign territory. After Victor (and several other exes Merlin didn’t care to think about), he had no idea how to function in a healthy relationship, which theirs was rapidly becoming at the time. Arthur hadn’t been so great at noticing Merlin’s discomfort (yet) and Merlin hadn’t been stellar at asking for what he needed. They hadn’t fixed everything that night, but there was a promise. A promise for mutual improvement, a promise to repair instead of throwing away. And from that night on, Merlin continued to harass Arthur, but with less edge. Arthur treaded much more carefully around Merlin’s moods, he was clumsy and often obtuse, but he tried. Merlin knew he tried. That’s what was important.

“One really amazing person loves me too.”

“Another man I should know about?” Merlin tugged the blond hair sharply, forcing a grimace to dance over Arthur’s face. He deserved it.

“I’m being serious, Arthur.”

“Me, too. Besides, I know exactly what happened.”

Merlin’s face took on that blank, and yet disapproving glare, slightly frowning with raised eyebrows. “Oh really? You think you know?”

“I _know_ I know.” Arthur leaned forward, kissing and nipping Merlin’s neck. He had a fixation with that neck, and Merlin used it to his advantage most of the time. “You were awkward and adorable, and she thought she could best you, make you break down, but you didn’t. Probably said something idiotic though,” he detached momentarily when Merlin hit him, grinning. “What? It’s true. You’re useless socially!”

“I didn’t say anything _idiotic_!”

“Probably ruined my reputation entirely,” he kept teasing as he pushed Merlin back down onto the bed. “After all the years I spent maintaining it…” But Merlin fought his way back into a sitting position, his lips catching Arthur’s and devouring him. His arms snaked around Arthur’s neck to hold himself up as Arthur angled downwards, clutching Merlin’s sides. Arthur would have been content to continue if Merlin hadn’t shied away for a moment, if he hadn’t paused. So he pulled back, putting his forehead to Merlin’s.

 “I wouldn’t have sent you to Daniela if I wasn’t sure that you could best her. I have complete faith in you.”

“I never doubted you.”

“But you were worried.”

Merlin shrugged, “For a moment. But only a moment.” Arthur pressed a kiss to his jaw.

“What changed?” It was an eerie echo of Daniela’s question. Before answering, Merlin cupped the musician’s cheeks and kissed him soundly, pulling away before it deepened and gleefully searched Arthur’s eyes.

“I was telling her about the first few months we were dating…” Arthur let out a theatrical groan and fell sideways to the bed, burying his face in the sheets, probably babbling incomprehensibly about how he was never going to live it down and that he didn’t always have to bring up what a giant git he had been at the start, and Merlin hadn’t exactly been “smooth” if he recalled (and probably mentioned the first time they slept together). Merlin laughed smugly and laid down next to him, face to face. “I was telling her about it and, well, something changed. Maybe it was her, maybe it was me, but I suddenly knew that she was just a person and my job was to show her that Mithian and the whole debacle was a side note. That it didn’t matter.”

“Didn’t it?”

Merlin’s hand ghosted Arthur’s face and neck, settling comfortably there where he could feel a pulse, a thumb on that obstinate chin. Insecurity and guilt. That’s what lay between them. Perhaps it always would, and Merlin wasn’t sure what to do with it; he didn’t know how to respond to someone handling him so gently, with such reverence. But it was perfectly clear right at that moment, perfectly simple.

“No,” he whispered. “It didn’t.”

A smile had slowly been stretching across Arthur’s lips. One of those sweet, sincere smiles, delicate and fragile, a whisper.  Merlin fitted himself to Arthur, nuzzling his nose, cheek, and neck. They didn’t have sex. Actually, they just fell asleep there, holding each other. Merlin roused himself an hour later to find the sun was still shining. He, in a state of hollow melancholy, wished that it was not. What right had the world to keep on going when they rested so peacefully here? Without moving, he looked at Arthur who, to anyone else, would have appeared to be resting easily, but he was awake and probably relishing their quiet moment as much as Merlin.

“Arthur?” he murmured, tucking his face into the musician’s shoulder, his hand snaking around the thicker waste, and feet reaching to be tangled. There was a wordless, nearly soundless reply, but it vibrated in Arthur’s chest, where Merlin could feel his steady heartbeat. “What are we going to do now?”

Arthur’s eyes flashed open, sending a jolt of warmth to Merlin’s belly. So, so blue. “Whatever you like.” The subtext there was strong enough not to be missed. And it wasn’t that Merlin was opposed to the idea, he just…they just…Apparently, Arthur didn’t need to be told this. Despite the fact that they were inconceivably tangled up in each other, Arthur hauled Merlin closer so that most of his weight rested on himself. They fit so comfortably together, Arthur’s face in the crook of Merlin’s neck and Merlin’s resting against his hair. Arthur had his arms fiercely braced around Merlin, protective rather than demanding. Merlin accepted the embrace, resting there, and letting Arthur use him as a pillow.

“Arthur?” The only response was a groan. They were both exhausted. The past few weeks had been grueling and they’d spent very little time alone together. And despite what tabloids were suggesting about Arthur’s dirty secrets, the musician needed his Heartbreaker for more than sex. But he still didn’t like hearing the man blather on when he was trying to sleep. Merlin squirmed a bit, not from discomfort, more from nervousness. The interview was out there now, he couldn’t fix anything he’d said.

“Merlin, I swear on all that’s holy, I _will_ tie you and up and gag you like that stupid magazine said I’m doing if you don’t stop _fidgeting_.” Arthur’s voice was low and gravelly like it only was when they were in bed. Merlin shifted again, obviously unimpressed by Arthur’s threat, which only succeeded in drawing a loud sigh from the blond. “Talk to me, M.”

“The interview.”

“You’re nervous.”

“Worried.”

“Worried, then. I suppose it has something to do with your ridiculous, albeit, adorably imperceptive insecurities?” Arthur ignored his boyfriend’s incredulous eye roll and trudged on. “And I assume that she asked some horribly personal questions that we didn’t quite prepare you for, and you answered as best you could without turning into a tomato?”

“I do _not_ turn into a _tomato_.”

“You get red and puff your cheeks out, you look exactly like a tomato. A blue eyed tomato.” Merlin grumbled something Arthur couldn’t quite make out, but it sounded venomous enough for him to chuckle. Instead of egging his boyfriend’s grouchiness on, Arthur ran a hand up and down his bare back, looking to soothe. “Don’t be worried.”

He could _feel_ Merlin’s eye roll. “Oh good, it’s all better now. I don’t know _what_ I could have been thinking. Ridiculous for me to get upset. I just went on national television to talk about the relationship we haven’t been talking about for the past three years. You know, just an everyday little chat with one of the bitchiest woman in entertainment. No big deal. Everything is just brilliant now, no need for me to worry about what I said and what people are going to say about it and how it’s going to affect your career. I mean, bloody hell, there’s absolutely no reason for you to be embarrassed of your nerdy, socially awkward, unsophisticated boyfriend spilling your dirty laundry to complete strangers who could use it to ruin you. Right, no worrying, then.”

“Merlin.”

“I know, _shut up_.”

Arthur grunted the affirmative. They were quiet for a little while, Merlin’s breathing was more rapid and somewhat shallow. Too shallow for Arthur’s peace of mind. He untangled himself, sat up, faced his boyfriend, and pulled those long pale hands into his own. Merlin wasn’t looking at him, he was pulling one of his sulky pouts. It was his attempt to look annoyed, which resulted in him looking like a depressed puppy. Arthur couldn’t resist stealing a quick kiss.

“M?” Only a grunt. “M, you got me awake and attentive, the least you can do is look at me when I’m talking to you.” Merlin pursed his lips irritated (Arthur knew this look to mean Merlin was mentally calling him a bossy, imperious prat), but eventually dragged his gaze up to meet Arthur’s. “Better,” Arthur continued, kissing one of the hands, “Remember that bit about me having faith in you?” Merlin didn’t answer, he just watched Arthur, head cocked to the side. Merlin always seemed to know what Arthur was thinking, or at least how he thought about things. He was scarily able to predict Arthur’s reactions to everything, always watching him closely as if cataloging facial expressions and his tone of voice in different situations. Family dinners with Uther were particularly difficult for Merlin to get through, but his ability to intervene, to know exactly what to say to Arthur or how to touch at the right moment was uncanny. They weren’t grand gestures. Merlin never prevented or stopped his father’s degrading or overly critical comments or lectures, but he silently helped Arthur through them. A touch on the shoulder. Grabbing for his hand to squeeze. Humming a few bars of their song. Arching his eyebrows when someone unwittingly referenced their infamous inside jokes. Small things, nearly unnoticeable to anyone who wasn’t paying attention. But where Merlin was involved, Arthur was almost always paying attention. Which is why he knew this current silence was more dangerous for them than any of Merlin’s ranting. The dark haired man’s insecurities knew no limit and Arthur, for the millionth time, found himself cursing Victor Felmont’s existence. Victor, Michael, Freya, David, and that other looney tune Merlin had met in high school whose name Arthur never could remember. Victor was the worst of the batch, if he was honest, and Arthur would cheerily stab the man’s eyes out and shove them down his throat, given the opportunity.

The man was, simply put, a moron. They all were. Who was dumb enough not to be ecstatic over having Merlin? Arthur still didn’t understand why he was so lucky, couldn’t begin to tell you what he had done to have so much. But that was Merlin, a walking contradiction. He laughed and teased when he should have praised or cowered. He ignored Arthur, not taking him seriously, where others took everything he said to heart, believing he was some kind of god. Merlin smiled when he should have yelled, criticized when others pandered, and was loyal for no reason other than because he chose to be. If Merlin was remaining quiet right now, when he should have been bickering, it was because he was afraid. Arthur simply wouldn’t tolerate that. 

“Do you know why I have so much faith in you?” Merlin shook his head, obviously baffled by the idea, though he’d never admit it. Merlin pretty much told everyone that Arthur couldn’t last a day without him around; he just never knew how true that was. “Because whenever I’ve needed you, you came through. Because you know exactly how to help with me asking it.” He kissed the other hand, “Because you always try to do the right thing for the people you care about, no matter how negatively it impacts you. And because if you even feel a fraction of how I feel about you, then…” Arthur was rubbing his thumbs over Merlin’s palms, “then I wouldn’t even hesitate to trust you with everything. You’re not a marketing scheme, a publicity stunt, you’re not expendable, and I care not in the least how people respond to what you said in the interview because I know that you were honest and genuine and that’s all I can ask for.”

“But _I_ care.” Arthur rolled his eyes, and gently bit the fleshy side of Merlin’s right hand. He was ridiculously stubborn; leave it to Merlin to pick out that particular bit when Arthur was trying to be romantic and reassuring. Merlin seemed to understand Arthur’s annoyance, but was unable to appear to be apologetic.

“As long as they refrain from insulting you or your character, I don’t give a damn. And there’s nothing else to say about it.”

“But what about your…”

“Nothing else to say,” Arthur interrupted firmly.

“But…” Arthur was forced to resort to the only truly effective method of shutting Merlin up: kissing. In fact, Arthur was vaguely aware that Merlin probably babbled and ranted just to provoke said method. Arthur roughly grabbed Merlin behind the ears and pulled him into the kiss, which was precise, diligent, and thorough. He’d only meant to shut Merlin up, but the effectiveness of his plan decreased considerably when the kiss deepened and turned into petting and stroking and with Merlin topping him. He’d wanted to give Merlin the reassurance that everything was going to be fine, that the interview didn’t matter to him like Mithian hadn’t mattered. Neither thing had any bearing on the way the felt about each other. He’d wanted to _talk_ about how he felt, something he didn’t do well all of the time. Sure, the past few weeks had been tumultuous. He’d been forced to say and do something or he was going to lose Merlin. Arthur was a show, not a tell, kind of guy. But for Merlin, his insecure, vulnerable, wonderful Merlin, the tell was often as, if not more than, important as the show. Expensive gifts, flowers, personally dedicated songs, vacations, and the other things Arthur occasionally sprung on him were not nearly as important as the daily “I love you”. They weren’t nearly as important as the “it’s going to be okay”s or the thank yous. Just like the guitar Merlin had given him wasn’t nearly as important as the fact that Merlin came to every family function, whispering encouragement and reminding him that Uther did care, he was just a bastard about it. An orgasm would stave off Merlin’s doubts, put them to rest for a short while, but they would come back full force. And Arthur was determined as ever to make sure that didn’t happen, so he brought Merlin over the edge with him twice before wrapping him back up in his arms, and whispering in his ear. “Merlin Emrys, I am ridiculously and scarily in the love with you, and nothing you say or do will ever change that. You’re impossibly stubborn, you never shut up, and you tease me mercilessly, and I can honestly say that my happiness and quality of life would decrease tenfold without you,” he nuzzled the pale neck, breathing in deeply. “I don’t know what I’d do if you ever…I can’t even stand to think about what would have happened if I…” Merlin suddenly spun in his arms, wrapping his squid-like limbs around him fiercely, clamping on like he was about to fall and Arthur was the sturdiest nearby object. He dragged his face from Arthur’s shoulder, kissing his jawline, cheeks, brow, nose, eyes, and lips, not relenting his grip for even a moment. Arthur could only shudder with relief, allowing those ministrations to banish the horrifying thoughts that had crept into his imagination.

“I won’t. I couldn’t. I can’t,” Merlin chanted. They fell asleep again, at ease with the ferocity of their reawakened feelings. They slept through the night, and when Arthur woke up Merlin had gone to work, but had left a note. _Won’t. Couldn’t. Can’t. Call Morgana and tell her to watch the interview tonight. I’ll bring home Chinese at 6. -M_

The interview aired that night. Merlin and Arthur didn’t watch it.

The next morning, Merlin was in his office, trying to sort through the latest virus mess one of the managers had inflicted on the system. She’d opened a bad link in her email, and it was going to take Merlin hours to set it right. Katherine, his chipper if nerdy assistant, brought in her lunch to eat with him at two, and brought the mail.

“You’ve got a special delivery,” she said a little too gleefully for Merlin’s taste. He swung his awesome new black leather desk chair (courtesy of Morgana who said he needed a chic chair for his nerd cave) to face her.

“What’s that?” he indicated the pile of magazine’s in her hands.

“A lovely man named Cenred just dropped them off. He told me to tell you that Arthur said: Told you so.”

Merlin cocked a brow, quickly taking the suspicious materials from his assistant. It was a stack of tabloids and entertainment magazines, each one featured him on the cover with headlines like: THE UK’S NEW DARLING and WE KNOW WHY HE HID HIS GEM AWAY or WE’D SLAY DRAGONS FOR MERLIN’S SMILE and ARTHUR BETTER WATCH OUT, CELEBS CRUSHING ON THE ROCKER’S MAN. They were calling him a sweetheart, the world’s best boyfriend, an “an absolute doll with the face of an angel”. “We swooned when he laughed,” they said, “we squealed when he defended his lover”. They were saying they had never seen Daniela Winnow take to anyone but him. The studio’s production crew was calling him “The Snake Charmer”.

 _Overall_ , wrote one entertainment writer, _Merlin Emrys was the most honest, loving significant other we’ve ever seen on the show. He had the poise of a seasoned professional with the authenticity of a regular bloke. We now understand why Pendragon was so quick to protect his privacy. He has quite a treasure. I’d play for the other team if it meant keeping Merlin to myself, too. Pendragon has wonderful taste and quite a boyfriend. Good on you, sir, good on you._

There were stills of Merlin from the interview, several of him nervous, two from when he was telling Daniela about Mithian (or that’s what the captions said), and more of him laughing, smiling, and blushing (these captions claimed he was telling Daniela about his and Arthur’s sex life). At the bottom of the stack which had a note from Arthur tucked in it. A shot of Merlin’s laughing face had made the cover, and the article was dog-eared. At least five pages were dedicated to the Winnow-Merlin interview; pictures of Merlin from the interview next to publicity shots of Arthur, Daniela, and so on. But Arthur had circled one, apparently his favorite. Both he and Daniela were in the shot, Daniela looking very soft and wistful and Merlin…well, there was something about his expression. It was so…what could have caused that? He purposely didn’t look at the comment Arthur had written, and skimmed over the caption: Emrys telling Winnow about his first date with Arthur Pendragon. Merlin’s eyes bugged, much to Katherine’s pleasure. She moved around the desk to look over his shoulder.

“Oh, Merlin…” she breathed. Oh Merlin, was right. The blatant feeling and unadulterated affection in that particular expression was shocking and embarrassing. At least for Merlin. Arthur had scrawled on the picture of Daniela which was next to it: _My gorgeous boyfriend talking about how much he loves me. You expect me to be embarrassed of that? –A_

It was a little too much. Arthur had always told him that he wasn’t any good at schooling his emotions, that his face said everything, that even his eyes glowed a bit whenever he felt something too strongly. But he’d tried so hard on the show! Still, he had told Arthur that Daniela’s tone changed a bit right after telling her about that date, so something must have sparked it. This must have been it.  It was just so…raw. Merlin readily admitted he was stupidly in love with his blond musician. To everyone. He didn’t mind people knowing. But this…well, _everyone_ could see it. Anyone could see it. You’d have to be blind and/or stupid to miss it. And there was a significant difference between knowing how much you loved someone and _seeing_ it.

“I watched the interview,” Katherine said quietly, “You were brilliant and lovely. Arthur must be proud.” Merlin let out a shaky laugh. This was a little overwhelming. He needed some air. Needed to see Arthur.

“Thank you. I think I was just grateful I didn’t vomit all over her.”

“Well, you did seem nervous…but I think it just made you seem more…”

“Naïve?”

“Sincere,” she corrected decisively. “Anyone who watched that show the other night knows exactly the kind of man Arthur was protecting.”

Merlin let out a sigh, which he wasn’t as capable as Arthur of labeling. He tossed the magazine on the desk. “And what kind of man is that?”

Katherine dropped an affectionate pat on his shoulder, “A very loving and loyal one.”

Merlin smiled his thanks and picked up the note Arthur had stuck in the magazine: _I already called the magazine for a print of that picture. You’d have to be mad to think that any of what you said would embarrass me. I love you, stupid. I’m making dinner tonight, you’ve been warned. –A_

“Prat,” Merlin breathed. He looked up at the amused Katherine with a shrug, “My boyfriend’s a prat.”

“And you _love_ him,” she teased, sliding around to sit in the seat across from him. Merlin smiled a little helplessly, not even trying to deny it.

“I really do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr! bringonthedeluge


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